What I'm Giving You
by ceres51892
Summary: Harry thinks about his feelings for Draco. Drarry fic. Written for Melanie


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no money from writing this fic.Story Notes:  
Written in celebration of Melanie's birthday! :D Woot, happy birthday!!! I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm making no money from writing this fic.

A/N: Very short. I didn't realize this at first, but I never use their names. The only name used is Ron's, for some reason. lol.

I hope you enjoy!

What I'm Giving You

You are sleeping, limbs lying every which way in your abandon. I remove your arm from my side and sit up, staring around. It isn't morning yet. The light from the stars outside is shining in through the window, illuminating the Boy's Dormitory in soft silver light; the gleaming quality and color of it reminding me unnecessarily of how your eyes look sometimes, when you're allowing yourself to feel true contentment.

I look around at the other beds that hold my four sleeping room mates. I wonder when it is you snuck into bed with me. Again. I really hope that no one saw you this time; the last thing I need right now are the looks Ron will give me in the morning if he sees you here. It makes me smile that you've charmed the Fat Lady into letting you in whenever you want; I should really talk to her about not letting you do that anymore.

I wonder what prompted you to do it this time. Was it an urge to sleep in a bed with me again, or did you just want to humiliate me? Did someone say something that upset or worried you? Were you just feeling alone, as you often say you do? These are the sorts of things I just have to wonder, because I know I won't ask you later. That if I did ask you later, you probably wouldn't want to give me a proper answer.

My eyes skim around the room once more, ensuring everyone is asleep, before I sigh and lay back down on my side so that I am facing you. I look down our bodies. Your feet are white in the dark, and hanging off the end of my bed. You've managed to hog all of the blankets, yet again, but they're barely covering you at all and I find it funny. I rearrange them with one arm from my position so that most of you and I are covered. And then your breath comes out like a whine as you shift against the bed, as if fighting to find where I am.

It isn't that I love you that I don't push you out of my bed and tell you to leave. I've told you that before; that I don't love you. I don't. But....

You turn your head a little on my pillow and a shiny lock of white-blonde hair falls into your face, obscuring it from my sleepy vision. Impatiently, I push it out of the way, brushing it back from your forehead.

You look so...frail when you sleep. I know you'd kill me if I ever told you that I thought that, but it's true. It's times like these that I enjoy looking at you the most. When everyone else, even you, is asleep and they won't think it's strange if I stare at you for a long time, and you won't call me stupid or sentimental or childish for wanting to just watch you. Because you don't know I'm doing it. Besides, it's not like you're any better; you may call _me _sentimental, but you're probably one of the most emotionally high-strung people I know. And you're the one who's always saying things like how you want to be with me, and you want me to come over to your house during the summer. So why should it be said that it's silly for me to want to memorize every part of you? It's not like I talk about how much you mean to me all the time, and I don't go spouting stupid things about feelings, either. So why can't I be allowed this?

Besides, you're very pretty, you know. I suddenly have to suppress the urge to laugh. Of course you do. You're quite full of yourself, actually. But no matter. I shift a little closer to you. In my mind, I could try to rationalize that the space on my bed is limited, but I'd be fooling myself; I really just want to lay closer to you.

Your fingers curl loosely in the pillow, clinging to the fabric of it as if you think you're holding onto a person; do you think you're holding onto me? I hate to think of your disappointment if you found out that you weren't.

Half your face is cast in shadow, the other half bathed in the silver glow of the starlight. Your hair is sort of messy in sleep and your eyelashes, dark in contrast to the rest of your fair complexion, flutter; you're dreaming. Your mouth is parted; open and breathing deeply with an occasional whine or murmur, and it makes me smile.

I reach out my arm and drape it over your side, hugging you closer. I guess it's all right if you sleep here. Just for tonight. And if my room mates see us, who cares? It's something I'll just have to deal with in the morning. But not right now.

On impulse, I lean in and kiss you on the lips. They're dry from being open all night, but they're pink and nice and they feel just as good against my own as ever before. I guess it's okay if we sleep together like this tonight.

Besides, it's not like doing this will let you know what I think of you. You never need to know that I woke up and had the chance to make you go. It's not like you'll ever know how much you mean to me, really. Not yet. For now, this is what I'm giving you.

The End.

End Notes: Please review, even if it's to tell me if you think I'm utter trash for not updating 'Promises'. D: I'm sorry!

I hope you liked it, and please review. Thanks for reading.

-Ri


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